Thirty-three years go by
And not once do you come home
To find a man sitting in your bedroom
That is
A man you don't know
Who came a long way to deliver one very specific message:
Lock your back door, you idiot
However invincible you imagine yourself to be
You are wrong

Thirty-three years go by
And you loosen the momentum of teenage nightmares
Your breasts hang like a woman's
And you don't jump at shadows anymore
Instead you may simply pause to admire
Those that move with the grace of trees
Dancing past streetlights
And you walk through your house without turning on lamps
Sure of the angle from door to table
From table to staircase
Sure of the number of steps
Seven to the landing
Two to turn right
Then seven more
Sure you will stroll serenely on the moving walkway of memory
Across your bedroom
And collapse with a sigh onto your bed
Shoes falling
Thunk thunk
Onto the floor
And there will be no strange man
Suddenly all that time sitting there
Sitting there on what must be the prize chair
In your collection of uncomfortable chairs
With a wild look in his eyes
And hands that you cannot see
Holding what?
You do not know

So sure are you of the endless drumming rhythm of your isolation
That you are painfully slow to adjust
If only because
Yours is not that genre of story
Still and again, life cannot muster the stuff of movies
No bullets shattering glass
Instead fear sits patiently
Fear almost smiles when you finally see him
Though you have kept him waiting for thirty-three years
And now he has let himself in
And he has brought you fistfuls of teenage nightmares
Though you think you see, in your naivete
That he is empty handed
And this brings you great relief
At the time

New as you are, really, to the idea that
Even after you've long since gotten used to the parameters
They can all change
While you're out one night having a drink with a friend
Some big hand may be turning a big dial
Switching channels on your dreams
Until you find yourself lost in them
And watching your daily life with the sound off
And of course having cautiously turned down the flame under your eyes
There are more shadows around everything
Your vision a dim flashlight that you have to shake all the way to the outhouse
Your solitude elevating itself like the spirit of the dead
Presiding over your supposed repose
Not really sleep at all
Just a sleeping position and a series of suspicious sounds
A clanking pipe
A creaking branch
The footfalls of a cat
All of this and maybe
The swish of the soft leather of your intruder's coat
As you walk him step by step back to the door
Having talked him down off the ledge of a very bad idea
Soft leather, big feet, almond eyes
The kinds of details the police officer would ask for later
With his clipboard
And his pistol
In your hallway

I am sort of angry at my TST application questtionaire. It asks me how many times I pray a day. In all truth, I would like a clear definition of prayer please. Does just sitting in awe of creation and life really count as praying? If it is it doubles my prayer time and I think I should get a raise.

I've neglected this blog for a while. I'm writing a book about a girl in rehab. Her name is Hope. I also hope to write a seris of atypical christian girl monlogues. Like the Vagina monologues only with less sexual humor. Talked to a publisher and everything. I would like to thank Mr. Walhout for failing my creative essay on what I wanted to be when I grew up. He really discouraged me to write what I felt. Thank you Mr. Walhout for all your sexist comments and your biased grading scale. I'm sorry I helped TP your house. Psych.

The All Girl Army wants you. We especially want you if you're lesbian or a knocked up teen. Email me if you're interested. We have another ten spotlight blog spots.

"Happiness can subside, but frustration never lets go"
You have been awfully mistreated in your life by your fellow peers and/or family, and feel a growing frustration towards your life and your inability to do anything about it. Since no one has ever really been there for you, you bottle most things inside. And that is quite a lot of pain bottled up too. Deep inside you yearn for many things; feelings for affinity, for the world to improve, for people to stop being judgemental amongst other things. Yet your hope in improvement is very low, and believe you only have the power over yourself. When you are in larger crowds you tend to get irritated by the prescence of others, so you keep to yourself. Those who know you are probably aware of the hate you carry, but you rarely do anything about it.
What is Your Phrase? [for darker people]
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You are a Samurai.
You are full of honour and value respect. You are not really the stereotypical hero, but you do fight for good. Just in your own way. For you, it is most certainly okay to kill an evil person, if it is for justice and peace. You also don't belive in mourning all the time and think that once you've hit a bad stage in life you just have to get up again. It's pointless to concentrate on emotional pain and better to just get on with everything. You also are a down to earth type of person and think before you act. Impulsive people may annoy you somewhat.

Main weapon: Sword
Quote: "Always do the right thing.
This will gratify some people and astonish
the rest" -Mark Twain
Facial expression: Small smile

What Type of Killer Are You? [cool pictures]
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Maybe I've been the problem 
Maybe I'm the one to blame 
But even when I turn it off and blame myself 
The outcome feels the same 

I've been thinkin' maybe I've been partly cloudy 
Maybe I'm the chance of rain 
And maybe I'm overcast and maybe 
All my luck's washed down the drain 

I've been thinkin' 'bout everyone, everyone you look so lonely 
But when I look at the stars, 
When I look at the stars, 
When I look at the stars 
I see someone else 
When I look at the stars, the stars 
I feel like myself 

Stars looking at our planet, 
Watching entropy and pain 
And maybe startin' to wonder 
How the chaos in our lives could pass as sane 

I've been thinkin' 'bout the meaning of resistance 
Of a hope beyond our own 
And suddenly the infinite and penitent 
Began to look like home 

I've been thinkin' 'bout everyone, everyone you look so empty 
But when I look at the stars, 
When I look at the stars, 
When I look at the stars 
I see someone else 
When I look at the stars, the stars 
I feel like myself 

Everyone, everyone you feel so lonely 
Everyone, ya everyone you feel so empty 
When I look at the stars, 
When I look at the stars, 
When I look at the stars 
I feel like myself 
When I look at the stars, the stars 
I see someone  

The new switchfoot cd really does rock.  Lia gives it five stars.  Lia giving five stars to a christian band?  Oh goodness.  What is this world coming to?